


Persephone

by MartyMiaMatt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Kisses, OOC, Older!Pidge, Physical Contact, Seduction, Sexual Tension, Temptation, canon-divergent, mutual fascination, very mild issues of dubious consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 21:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12418734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartyMiaMatt/pseuds/MartyMiaMatt
Summary: “I’ve already answered you,” Pidge snarled. “The answer’s no, Lotor. Never.”“Is this truly your final wish, Paladin?”He stood up. Involuntarily, Pidge took a step back, suddenly becoming acutely aware of how much smaller than him she was, how much more fragile, without her armor and her bayard.





	Persephone

**Author's Note:**

> Well.  
> I was happy to notice that other users in the fandom came up with a 'Hades & Persephone' theme for Lotor and Pidge, because I thought of it too! ^^ 
> 
> About this piece: it takes place somewhere after season 3, in a canon-divergent scenario where Pidge faces Lotor in a battle and is taken prisoner.  
> (This piece DOES NOT include explicit sexual content or non-con!)  
> Please know that I wrote Pidge to be over 18, though her age isn't brought up. Also, while I tried to stay close to canon characterizations in theory, I really ended up saying 'Fuck it' and I did what I wanted with the characters, so please keep in mind that I'm aware both of them are not super IC.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this piece! If you want, please let me know what you think. As usual, let me know if there are any mistakes. ^^

The metal gates opened with a soft whirling noise.

She walked past the doorway with her head up high. After the nearly complete darkness of her cell, the sudden brightness of purple lights hurt her eyes; but she refused to look down.

Despite her defiant façade, she felt unsteady on her feet. A subtle but constant soreness had burrowed into her limbs, seeping under her skin and muscles and bones.

Escorted by a total of six massive Galra guards, the Green Paladin made her way through the throne room.

 

The guards did not speak to her; they had barely done so since the moment they had come to seize her, merely growling something about the prince having summoned her.

They had not hesitated to be rough then, grasping at her arms and pushing her, but they did not dare now, not in front of their sovereign. They simply surrounded her, striding with identical, smooth movements in stark contrast with their tough appearance and their size.

Pidge glanced around from under the unruly fringe of brown hair, but she wasn’t planning an escape attempt. Not now. She would resume thinking about that, about the calculations and the observations in her head that kept her company and kept her from losing her mind, but only later, in the relative privacy of her cell.

For now, she straightened her back and steeled herself, and she stared right back at the enemy who was sitting right in front of her, a few feet away.

 

“Green Paladin,” said prince Lotor, his tone pleasant and calm.

From his position, he towered over her. He was sitting on a massive throne carved in a jet black onyx-like material; the shapes of unfamiliar animal creatures and plants were carved in the large armrests and along the edges of a tall, rectangular headrest. She caught glimpses of birds with feline heads and unmoving, feathered wings; dragon-like creatures with sharp claws and open mouths filled with elongated teeth; fishes and snakes and wolves, or at least, their closest alien equivalents.

Among the tangle of mythical figures, small purple crystals shimmered faintly, in their eyes or inside their mouths or decorating their skins.

 

The prince was sitting cross-legged, with one elbow leaning on one of the armrests, his chin resting on the back of his hand.

He glanced uninterestedly at the soldiers.

“Thank you for your service. Your duty here is done; you may go.”

 

Pidge sensed a moment of hesitation, of tension crackling among the Galras.

She guessed the disdain aimed at her, but also their dislike and mistrust of the man they were supposed to refer to as their ruler. Maybe one of them would protest the order, she thought; but nothing of the sort happened.

“Vrepit Sa,” they murmured, again in unison like one single soldier. They saluted their prince, bowed their heads, and before Pidge could fully process what was happening, the barrier of strong bodies around her own dissipated.

 

A cold wave of discomfort swam through her chest and tied a knot in her stomach.

Alone, she stood in the middle of the semi-dark hall, surrounded by its tall ceiling and high windows that revealed the expanse of an even darker sky.

 

Lotor looked at her.

“Come, Green Paladin,” he beckoned her with a gesture of his hand.  

 

Pidge bit her lip. She reminded herself of her intention to be patient and careful and listen to what the prince had to say to her.

Little by little, she walked the large steps that lead to the summit of the impressive throne.

Without her glasses, her vision was hazy.

With every step, she felt as if her knees were about to buckle, as if her legs had turned to something like butter or jelly; she grit her teeth, and didn’t allow herself to fall.

 

She stood in front of Lotor, much closer now.

She pointedly ignored her uneasiness at her present state. When she had been captured, they had taken away her armor and her under-suit; at least the clothing they had given her was decent, which was more than she would have expected. The tunic she was wearing was a plain shade of black, cut from a thick but smooth fabric. It had a simple v-shaped opening for her head and long, large sleeves that covered her hands past her knuckles. The ample gown fell in a straight line past her knees.

She was barefoot; the floor was smooth and cold under the soles of her feet, like the surface of a frozen pond in the winter. Very little of her body was uncovered, but still, she couldn’t shake off the awareness of the contrast with Lotor’s full armor.

 

“What do you want?”

Quick and ice-cold, her words pierced the air. After countless hours of silence, her own voice sounded hoarse, almost foreign to her ears.

 

Lotor smiled. His golden eyes remained fixed on her face.

“I wish to resume our conversation. Now that you’ve had time to assess your situation and ponder your alternatives, maybe you are ready to answer my question.”

 

A sudden sparkle of anger warmed her chest, spreading to her arms and her hands, shackled in front of her by the pair of magnetic handcuffs that the guards had put on her. She clenched her fists.

She could seem despondent, even hopeless, to the guards who had seen her in her cell and had paraded her in chains through the headquarters. She had kept quiet, during all those days that had turned into weeks, allowing them to think what they wanted to think; letting them mock the prisoner and celebrate the triumph of their side, which they believed to be inevitable and imminent.

But she was still a Paladin of Voltron, and she had been captured, not defeated.

The other Galras may have been too blinded by their arrogance to see it; but Lotor was not like them, and she knew he wouldn’t let himself be deceived by appearances.

 

“I’ve already answered you,” Pidge snarled. “The answer’s no, Lotor. Never.”

 

Lotor’s smile didn’t falter. It looked gentle, not mocking; it was unnerving.

He dragged the pad of his thumb over his lower lip and hummed.

“Is this truly your final wish, Paladin?”

He stood up. Involuntarily, Pidge took a step back, suddenly becoming acutely aware of how much smaller than him she was, how much more fragile, without her armor and her bayard.

 

Lotor tilted his head to a side.

“You are fatigued. Dehydrated and malnourished. Those may be the causes of your… lack of clarity. I have been told you are refusing your meals. For the sake of your health, that cannot continue.”

He gestured to a spot on her left, and Pidge followed the movements of his hand with her eyes.

She hadn’t noticed before, but she saw a small table next to the throne. She saw a transparent pitcher filled with what seemed like a dark red liquid, maybe some sort of wine, a bowl of fruit, and dishes of what looked like bread and pieces of unfamiliar meat.

“Your kind is more sensitive to the lack of sustenance,” Lotor resumed, still eerily polite.

“You may have all the food that you wish; and a more comfortable accommodation, as well. But first, you will talk to me.”

 

A shiver ran down her spine. She flinched, unwittingly, when he leaned towards her; but all he did was hold her wrists in one hand.

With a quick sequence of gestures, Lotor composed what seemed to be a code on the metal bracelets, and they opened with a _click_.

He removed them and put them to a side, leaving her free.

 

 _Free_. The thought almost made her dizzy.

For the first time in weeks, there were no bounds on her, no narrow walls around her. She was still in front of her enemy, and no closer to escaping than she had been until then; but for a moment, she could almost savor the illusion of not being a prisoner.

 

Lotor’s hand moved to her face, resting on her left cheek with unexpected gentleness.

The contact made her jump, bringing her back to the present moment.

 

“I have waited for you, Green Paladin. I have wanted to see you,” he murmured, almost talking more to himself than to her.

He grazed her skin with the tip of his thumb and index; his hand was cool, but not unpleasant. She had not received anything resembling kind human contact in a very long time; something warm and heavy suddenly flooded her chest like a tide. The corner of her eyes started to sting, and Pidge had to fight against herself not to lean into Lotor’s touch.

 

Lotor held her right hand in his own, his cool fingers around her wrist.

He bowed his head; a strand of his silver hair slipped over his shoulders and brushed against her arm.

He grazed the back of her hand with his lips, leaving a soft, impalpable kiss.

His voice turned to a whisper, something secret for her alone.

“I will ask you again. Become my ally,” Lotor asked her once more, as he had already done on the first day of her imprisonment. She had expected to be interrogated and tortured, or disposed of, or used as ransom to convince her teammates to surrender the lions. But Lotor had not done any of those things.

Pidge had thought he had surprised her then, but she was surprised once again now.

 

She tore her hand away.

Lotor’s intense gaze kept flooding her face with heat; uncomfortably, she shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

She wanted him to stop acting so disturbingly collected and calm, to stop looking at her as if she was something precious from which he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“I’m not your ally,” she hissed. “I won’t leave Voltron. I won’t betray my friends!” she added, raising her voice.

 

“I won’t _negotiate_ with you,” Pidge exclaimed, words burning with defiance.

She lifted her chin. “Neither will the others. We won’t give in to your demands.”

 

Lotor’s brows furrowed.

“Do you think so lowly of the ones you call friends, then? Do you believe they would rather leave you at the hands of the enemy if it meant safety for them?”

Little by little, he regained his closeness to her.

“And yet I thought I’d made it clear that I do not intend to use you as leverage against your companions,” he continued, conversationally, as if musing.

“I have told you before. What I wish is for you to stay with me. By my side.”

 

Pidge shuddered.

She glanced upwards, staring at him.

 

“… Why?” The simple word felt grating inside her throat. “Why me?”

 

Lotor’s hands leaned on her shoulders. This time, she didn’t flinch at the contact; her brain barely registered it.

He leaned towards her. One hand cupped her nape, bringing their faces a lot closer than before.

“Why you, Green Paladin?” A soft smirk played on his lips. “Why you, _Pidge_?” he repeated. “Or perhaps should I say _Katie_?”

 

Instinctively, she lunged herself towards him.

“Don’t… don’t call me that!”

 

There was a shift in his expression; Lotor turned completely serious.

“You wish to know why I chose you? Very well.” He held her hand, again.

"I have chosen you because you are cunning, observant, resourceful, and a skillful fighter. I believe that you would be a most crucial asset for our ranks.”

 

Pidge held her breath. There was something about him, something that she had not noticed before; some sort of heat, of energy, radiating off his body, reeling her in.

 

Inch by inch, she felt herself being pulled closer, his hands guiding her movements. Without knowing why, Pidge didn’t resist him.

She felt one of his hands resting on the small of her back, the other delicately covering her right hand. Lotor lifted her weight with ease, and she found herself sitting sideways on his knee.

 

Cool fingers tilted her chin upwards, his hold gentle but unyielding. That scalding heat to her face returned.

“I do not want you here as my prisoner,” Lotor said, softly. “I want you to stay as my equal.”

With his index he brushed at her temple, pushing aside one of her light brown strands. Her hair had gotten longer, reaching a little past her shoulders. It was a tangled, matted mess; she had been granted the privilege of washing herself, but she hadn’t given much thought into making herself look presentable.

Lotor did not seem to mind at all, and he slowly continued petting her head, running his fingertips through the tufts and locks of unequal lengths.

“I believed I had myself clear, but I will say it again. I would take you as my consort.”

 

“Why would I ever …” she blushed harder, suddenly, when his hands slid down along her back “… accept something like that?”

 

All at once, Pidge became very aware of the contact between her naked legs and the strong, steady presence of his body beneath her, even under the sharp, irregular edges of his armor. He was far more dressed than her, and barely touching her; but they were close, and she couldn’t move in any direction without brushing against him somehow.

Maybe there was some truth to the absurd idea that had started buzzing inside her head a few months before. Maybe Lotor truly had some way of sneaking into his opponents’ heads, of intruding into their minds, flooding them with his presence until they were no longer in control of their actions. Some sort of alien technology, or dark magic, that even her knowledge couldn’t fight off.  

Or maybe this… _connection_ … was something he had with her only. This sort of instinct that she felt but she couldn’t explain, that had led her to chase after him for months, somehow always sensing where he was, always finding him faster than the rest of the team.

 

Lotor’s fingers traced lines on her wrist, loosely following the pattern of her veins.

“Because I can give you what you want,” he replied, finally, plainly.

 

His fingers slipped between hers. “I know your heart. I know your deepest desire.”

 

She shook her head, tried to disentangle herself from him. For some reason, her limbs felt heavy and uncoordinated, her body didn’t seem to cooperate.

“What are you talking about…?”

 

“You want your family back.”

Lotor kissed the inside of her wrist. Sharp teeth scraped the sensitive skin.

“Your father and brother. You miss them so deeply; so desperately. Don’t you? For all these years, over and over, your endless search has proven fruitless.”

His voice was slow, silk-soft; maybe he was right about her being starved, Pidge thought confusedly, because she was starting to feel dizzy again, dazed and weak.

“Your friends have tried to console you, I’m sure. But even they, by now, must think that it would be wiser to give up. But you,” Lotor continued, “You could never bring yourself to believe them. Even in the moments of darkest despair, you remained determined to continue your quest…”

 

Her body fell harder against his. Her hands, resting on Lotor’s shoulders, trembled – when had she started touching him?

 

“I can help you,” Lotor murmured. “Renounce your foolish _mission_ with Voltron. The ones you call friends are not worthy of you. They will abandon you, eventually; they will give you up, like they gave up the search for your loved ones. Rule by my side, and I vow to help you find your family, no matter how far across galaxies we will have to travel.”

 

She felt his nails dig deeper into the soft skin of her hips. Something vibrated in his throat, a sound like a sigh or maybe something closer to a growl.

She couldn’t… Pidge bit her tongue, hoping for the light pain to help her focus, but to no effect. Her head still felt empty and light, a balloon filled with hot hair. In contrast, Lotor’s body was strong and steady and warm, so real… she tried not to think that thought, but it was almost… comforting, like something she had long forgotten, something she had been missing without even realizing it.

He couldn’t be telling the truth… could he?

Could he really help her?

 

One of his hands moved back to her face, his fingertips softly traced the arc of her upper lip.

There was the space of a breath between their mouths.

 

Pidge blinked.

 

She became aware now of his hands steadily gripping her hips. She had almost lost her balance, somewhere during their conversation, and her body was almost draped over his chest.

Maybe it was exactly what he had wanted from the start. The conversation just a pretext, a distraction, to make her pliable and bring her into his arms – willingly.

 

She drew back, suddenly, breaking the embrace.

She heard the echo of something crashing inside her head, like a mirror being smashed to pieces.

 

Pidge stood up, staggering. She almost tipped backward.

She found her balance again, on the edge of the stone step.

She looked up at Lotor.

 

“I don’t want your help.”

Her voiced seemed to bounce across the throne room from wall to wall.

She inhaled deeply, feeling her lungs expand with the deep intake of air, as if she had been holding her breath until that very moment.

“You can’t help me,” she said, louder. Saying it make it feel more real, suddenly much more real than the moment they had shared.

“I refuse, Lotor.”

 

Something clouded the prince’s yellow eyes. For the briefest instant, there was a subtle shift, a trembling in his sharp features.

He moved his lips, but no sound came out at first.

Silence fell over them like a cloak. The faint glow of the crystals etched on the throne tinged Lotor’s silver hair with a violet shade.

 

“Is that your final answer, Green Paladin?”

Was it just her mind playing another trick on her, or there was… sadness, in his voice?

No. He was acting; he had to be. He was just disappointed over not getting what he’d wanted, over not acquiring the strategic tool he had hoped for. She couldn’t listen to him. She had listened enough.

 

Pidge hardened her face.

“I have nothing to say to you anymore, Lotor,” she replied. A calm that she hadn’t felt in weeks seemed to descend on her.

 

Lotor’s voice turned to steel.

“Then… I am afraid there is nothing else I can do for you.”

 

Pidge didn’t move.

She remained still where she stood; she kept holding his gaze, serene, with her head held high like the moment she had entered the room.

She almost didn’t feel it when Galra guards surrounded her again and grabbed her by her elbows, kicked the back of her legs to make her fall.

As she was forced to kneel on the cold floor, she answered Lotor’s frozen expression with a small, confident grin.

 

“Bring her back to her cell.”

The prince’s words swam through her ears. Pidge almost didn’t hear them.

 

Inside her chest, her heart was beating wildly. Blood pulsed in her temples, roared in her veins.

Miles away from wherever her friends were, she started feeling like herself again.

 

 _This_ was what she had to do.

Resist. At all costs, no matter what it would take.

A dull ache spread again through her arms, shackled behind her back. A wave of nervous energy crackled and buzzed and burned under her skin.

She would never give in. She would never have a hand in helping Lotor win.

She was Pidge. Katie Holt. She was the Green Paladin of Voltron, she told herself once again; and she had been captured, but she had not been defeated.

It wasn’t over yet.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not very satisfied with this one, tbh... In my mind I was going for a more 'seductive' atmosphere, with a less reluctant Pidge and a greater emphasis on her temptation to give in to Lotor. I don't think I delivered, unfortunately. I think you can kind of spot the part where I lost a clear idea of what I was going for and the tone I wanted to give this work, but oh well. I wanted to give my contribution to this ship that I like and use this idea that I had. :)


End file.
